


Baklavas for your Birthday

by CloverHighFive



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baking, Cooking, F/M, Funny, Naked Dean Winchester, Saving People Hunting Things, Sexy Times, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 03:58:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16297724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloverHighFive/pseuds/CloverHighFive
Summary: Dean wants to make baklavas for your birthday (he's got something planned... hmmm), but of course saving people doesn’t take a day off (dammit!).





	Baklavas for your Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Smut with a story beforehand.

Today was your birthday. The boys didn’t know because you didn’t really care. Life as a hunter almost made you forget the date since time on the road meant the few friends you had had a hard time to reach you, and so wishes always came too early, too late, if they came at all. There was also this constant living a double life with fake i.d.’s, which didn’t help.

Meeting Dean, though, had changed your daily life. A few vampires dead, a few drinks to celebrate, and boom, you had locked that one handsome killing machine down. You mostly lived your lives separate, the hunt taking you to all corners of the country, but you found ways to meet on the road – much to his brother’s annoyance, since sometimes Dean made insane detours for bedsheets sessions with you.

Eventually, you had moved in the bunker with the boys. Being a couple with Sam as a third wheel roommate was strange at first, but you all made it work. Sam was good at giving you space and even welcomed the alone time to go out and do things by himself – something he rarely did when Dean only had him as a companion.

Moving in also meant you learned to know Dean in a completely different light. The man was in fact a sweet guy, who liked cuddling and pancakes in the morning. He loved making you smile, he loved stealing a kiss when he passed you by. He also liked to be a little kinky. He called it “sexy rules”. You laughed every time. The contrast between the focused predator and the lost in lust softie was what made him so adorable.

And so it was your birthday. You thought to yourself, I think I’ll tell the boys. I wonder if having birthday wishes on the right date will make this day feel any different. Probably not, but hey, free hugs! Plus, Sam hugs? The best hugs! Sure, he was your boyfriend’s brother, but you were not blind to his charms. And he gave the best hugs. Not gonna pass on that one, no sir!

You could hear noises coming from the kitchen. Someone was making breakfast. You got up and dressed as the usual – jeans, shirt, whatever’s clean – and followed the smell of fresh coffee.

As you turned the corner – “Surprise!”, shouted the boys. You stood there with a smile, looking at the balloons tied around the posts of the island. Dean walked to you, picked you up, and kissed you. “Happy birthday sweetie!” He put you back down and turned around, looking proudly at you and the balloons. You couldn’t believe your eyes. “But… How did you know…” Sam walked over and said, “We’re good hunters, [Y/N], you should know.” And he picked you up – higher than Dean – squeezed you tight with both his arms going all the way around you, and whispered “Happy birthday pumpkin” with a kiss on your head before putting you back down again. Oh yes… Sam’s hugs were the best.

Dean took you by the shoulders and, looking up and down at you, said, “Now, you go sit your fine – he shot a sideways glance at Sam – um, self over there, and your breakfast will be served in a just a minute.” He turned to his brother and gestured to the table, “you too, Sam. Sit.” Sam laughed as he nodded at you, and you both went to sit to wait for your plates.

You peeked at the island and saw it was quite full. You hadn’t noticed at first because of the balloons, but there were jams, fruit, syrup, whipped cream in a can, custard, chocolate spread, and… were those sprinkles? “Dean, what’s this all about?” Dean turned from the counter, where he was filling something with batter. “I got you a birthday present.” He stepped back and gestured to the thing on the counter, flashing his biggest smile. “A waffle iron! Uh?! Uh?!” You laughed and looked at Sam, who raised his eyebrows and said, “yeah,” laughing too. You turned back to the child playing with his new toy. “Dean, is it for me or is it for you?” Dean spoke over his shoulder. “I know you love waffles – hell, who doesn’t? – and I wanted to surprise you with waffles. So, yes, it’s for you.” You looked at him fumbling with something, clearly having trouble. You turned to Sam. “Burned waffles coming up…” Sam chuckled and gave you a shoulder bump. Dean went “Hey, I heard that!”

You were still laughing with Sam when Dean turned around with a plate, one waffle on it, putting it on the island and choosing toppings. He looked up at you as if your face could tell him exactly what you wanted and picked up the syrup – real maple syrup, generously poured – whipped cream – not too much – a few berries and some sprinkles. He straightened up with a smile, picked up the plate, came over and put it in front of you. “Happy birthday.” You took your fork and looked up at him with a fond smile. “Thank you. This looks… – you peeked around the plate – not burnt, for one thing – you looked up at Dean who had lost his smile in favour of a flat expression – and delicious. Seriously, this is decadent. And it smells heavenly.” Dean smiled again. “Go on. Taste it.” You took a big bite with everything. “MMMMmm! Wow. MMm! This is really good!” Dean said, mockingly, as he turned with his hands on his waist, “well no need to act so surprised.” He shot a look at Sam. “Yours is up in a minute.” Sam pointed out, “could you please put less syrup on –“ Dean cut him short as he went to the counter “Yeah yeah, I know. I’ll even put carrots on it if you want.” Sam sighed. “Dean…” “Ah, shut up.” But Dean came back with Sam’s waffles topped with a mountain of berries and a touch of custard. He then joined you with a stack of waffles topped with the classic syrup-whipped cream combo, which he promptly attacked and wolfed down. Sam and you both chuckled watching him.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” you said, looking at both men. “Because you seem to have a plan. I mean, don’t get me wrong, this already is the best birthday I’ve ever had.” Sam looked around at the empty plates and the balloons floating at the island. “[Y/N], I think this is the best birthday we’ve all ever had.” He gave you a side hug and a kiss on your head. “Thanks for being born on this day.” You laughed. Dean scraped off the last streaks of syrup from his plate – short of downright licking it – and said, licking his fork, “First, we go to the grocery store. I have something I want to make for you, but I’m short on a few things.” Sam nudged you on the shoulder. “And me, I’ll be out. I’ll leave you two to celebrate. I’ll be back tomorrow.” You pouted. “But… It’s my birthday… I don’t want you to go…” Sam smiled at you. “Hey, we’ll do something tomorrow, alright?” You smiled. “Alright. Don’t go and watch all the movies without me.” Sam chuckled. “Alright. Promise.” Dean raised an eyebrow, looking at you. “My god, you can be such a nerd sometimes, I can’t believe I’m in love with you.” You reached across the table to hold his hand, and, winking at him, you answered, “So much.” Dean gave your hand a little squeeze and said softly, “So much.” Sam cleared his throat and got up. “O.K., guys, see you tomorrow.” You both said bye without looking at him.

After the kitchen was cleaned up, you went to the garage. You stopped in the doorway and shouted at Dean, who was in the bathroom, “Hey! What car should we take?” You heard him shout back, “What kind of question is that? We take the Impala.” You shouted, “I don’t think we can. Sam left with it.” You heard a commotion from inside the bunker, running, and Dean appeared, holding his pants up. “What the f –“ But he saw his car and, most of all, he saw you, laughing, folded over, out of breath. Wheezing, you said, “Oh god… this was… was so worth it… the look on your face!” Dean looked at you flatly. “Ha. Ha. Hilarious.”

“We don’t need a cart,” Dean pointed out, looking at you leaned on it with your full weight, pushing it awkwardly slow. “But I’m laaaaazyyy…” you said, as you followed him down the aisle. Dean only picked up 3 things: pistachios, almonds, and phyllo dough. “That’s it?” you said, kind of disappointed. “Yup, we’re good.” Your gears were running. “Wait… this is… You’re not making baklavas?” Dean turned with a smirk on his face. “Oooh yes. Home-made baklavas.” He kissed you. “Nothing less for my sweetie.” You looked at him in surprise. “You know how to make baklavas?” He laughed. “No, but I found it online, and it’s not that hard.” “Wow. I want to see that.” Dean winked at you. “Oh you’re going to watch alright.”

In the parking, Dean barely had time to start the car that you both saw something suspicious. A teenage girl had pushed a man inside a van, seemingly at gunpoint, not even bothering to look around to see if someone was watching, and had promptly jumped in the passenger seat. The van had driven away. Dean turned, nodded at you. You nodded back. He followed the van.

The van drove on through town. “Look, I’m sorry, it’s your birthday, and…” “It’s alright,” you said, your hand on his thigh, “it’s our job.” He took your hand in his and, as he drove, stroked it with his thumb. You squeezed his hand a little, looking leisurely at the stores and buildings as you passed by.

The van drove out of town, on to a quiet road. You took a deep breath, getting out of your reverie, and turned to Dean. “I don’t even have my gun on me. If we don’t have time to get to the trunk, we’re screwed. I think this was not a good idea.” Dean glanced at you, a soft smile on his face. “We’re always prepared. I always have a bag of stuff in the car.” “Mmm really?” “Yeah, it’s back there.” You twisted your neck trying to see, but there was nothing. Dean saw you and added, “It’s under my seat.” You unbuckled your seatbelt and climbed halfway over the seat, your ass right by Dean’s head. You heard him say “Oh hellooo there” as he slapped you. “Hey!” “What? It’s right there, come on!” “Well… I’m… gnf… hmf… Alright I got it.” You sat back and opened the bag. “Geez, that’s not much. Four guns and two knives.” Dean glanced at the guns. “They’re each loaded with a different type of bullet. Silver, witch-killing, dead man’s blood, and demon traps. The knives, it’s just always handy.” You raised your eyebrows and whistled. “Man, that’s cool.” Dean smiled. “Nice emergency kit, uh?!” “Yeah, super cool. Amazing, actually.” Dean flashed another smile. “Hey, you don’t get to survive in this line of work on handsomeness alone.” “Babe, you don’t get nothing in this line of work on handsomeness alone.” He pouted in disagreement. “I don’t know… I got you.” You laughed, but he looked at you with a serious, yet soft look. You couldn’t resist his beautiful green eyes. You scooted over and kissed him on the cheek, not wanting to distract him too much from the road. As you sat back you saw the sweetest grin on his face. He took your hand and kissed it.

The van drove on. “Man, this is taking a while,” you said, looking at the time on the dash, “good thing we had a big breakfast.” “I just hope there is not, like, a dozen monsters to kill. I want to get this over with and get back to make the baklavas.” You cocked an eyebrow at the mention of the baklavas, but you had other things on your mind. “Dean, we don’t even know what we’ll be dealing with.” “In broad daylight like this? We have a choice of werewolves, shape-shifters, witches, and even vampires.” “Or, it’s just stupid humans kidnapping other humans.” Dean shook his head. “I’d hate that.” “Come on, if it’s that, we don’t need to kill anyone, so… I don’t know.” “No, no, no. When it’s just humans, it’s a fucking mess. We have to talk to them, tie them up, call the police, we never see the end of it. Plus, we have to explain stuff to the police, and it drags on and on. No. It’s better when we get to kill everyone. It’s simple, it’s clean, it’s done.” You looked out the window. “Yeah… I’m with you on this one.”

Finally, the van turned in the driveway of a farm. Dean drove by without a glance. You kept an eye in the mirror. The road turned and you lost the farm. Dean asked, “And?” You answered, “The barn.” “Let’s go.” He turned the car around at the next driveway and drove back to the farm. He parked the car not too close to the barn, conscious of the rumble of the engine. You both took two of the guns, another one with normal bullets, and got some machetes from the trunk. You shook some holy water at Dean questioningly. He nodded a ‘why not’. Dean closed the trunk almost all the way and nudged it shut.

Dean opened the barn door without making a sound. You both looked in quickly. There were only the two teenagers from the parking lot, the girl and the driver, a boy. Between them, the man who had been kidnapped was tied up to a chair, unconscious. Dean looked at you and shrugged. You shrugged back. Dean entered, gun raised. “Hello there.” You were right behind him, gun raised too. “Hands where we can see them. Now.” The teenagers raised their hands quickly. The girl asked, “What’s going on? Are you… You’re not the police.” Dean answered, “Nevermind who we are. We just need you to tell us what you are, and everything will be quick and easy.” The teenagers looked at each other, clearly at a loss. The girl spoke again. “ _What_ we are? What do you mean, _what_ we are?”

Meanwhile, you had had the time to take in the surroundings. You had noticed a sigil repeated on the posts around the scene and under the chair, lit candles in a pattern, and a silver ring on a little table in front of the unconscious man. You nudged Dean and cocked your head in the direction of the room. He looked around, realization dawning on him. He lowered his gun. “OK… Who are you summoning?” The teenagers looked at each other. The boy answered. “Um… Astaroth.” “What is that? A god or a demon?”, asked Dean. The boy answered, “A demon. He is going to make us…” “Don’t care,” Dean interjected. You, on the other hand, were curious about the ring. It was pretty unusual. “You are offering a ring and a human sacrifice? What…?” Dean turned to you. “Do we care?” You said, annoyed, “It might be important.”

At that moment, a foul stench hit you all. The girl said to the boy, “The ring is not working!” The boy barked back “It’s because we have to wear it to stop the smell!” “But there’s two of us, we can’t both wear it!”

“Enough!”A voice said from the shadows. A man came forth, dressed in shining green, like scales of a dragon. He looked at the teenagers and asked, pointing to you and Dean, “Who are those two?”

Dean rolled his eyes. He put his gun in his belt, took out another one and aimed at the demon. Astaroth blinked in surprise and laughed. “You think you can kill me with that? Haha!” Dean shot the demon in the head.

The teenagers screamed and ran behind a post. The man tied up to the chair woke up with a start, and screamed as he saw a man on the ground, a bullet hole in the head, swearing furiously, but… not dead. He looked up at you and Dean. “What… What…” You went to him and untied him. “You and the teens, you go in the van, now.” The man protested. “But they’re the ones who…” “NOW.” They all left, running.

Meanwhile, Dean had walked up to the demon and was standing over him. “So, Astrogoth, you’re doing deals in town…” “It’s Astaroth!” He was furiously trying to move. “What did you do to me?” Dean smirked as he contemplated his gun, showing it to the demon. “Those lovelies are demon trap bullets. You’re pinned down now. You’re mine.” Dean looked up at you. “Do you have the demon blade?” You smiled at the demon as you took Ruby’s knife out. “Of course.” Dean stepped back and half curtsied. “Madame, if you would do us the honour.” You positioned the knife in your hand. “So long, sucker. See you in Hell.” You drove the knife down in his heart, and he flashed yellow as he died, screaming.

Dean took a step towards you and took you by the waist, pulling you into him. “Nice kill, milady.” You looked up at him, giggling. “Nice shot, my knight in not very shining armour.” As Dean opened his mouth to protest, you kissed him. He gave in a moment, and then broke the kiss, throwing his head back. “OK. The kids and the dude. Gotta take care of the humans.” “Urgh.” “Yeah.”

Once warnings against kidnapping and summoning had been made very clear, you and Dean were back in the Impala, on your way home. The ride back was much shorter, Dean going through shortcuts in town. You even saw Sam sitting on a park bench, absorbed in a book, clearly enjoying himself in the quietude of a nice early sunny afternoon. Dean honked like a mad man and you both screamed insanities at him as you drove by, leaving a laughing, confused Sam behind, waving back too late. “My god, he’s such a nerd,” Dean said, as he rolled his window back up, laughing softly. “Yeah, but you love him too,” you said. Dean smiled but didn’t answer. He glanced at you, and saw you looking at him expectantly. “Hey, I’m not gonna say ‘so much’ about my brother, nuh-huh.” You both laughed.

As you descended the stairs in the bunker, Dean asked you if you were hungry. “I don’t know… Just a little sandwich would do I guess. We didn’t even get any adrenaline rush. That hunt was so quick…” Dean agreed. “But once in a while, a little quickie, it’s good too,” he said, winking at you. You laughed as you took the food out of the fridge. You stopped in your tracks. “Wait. Was that a message?” Dean got closer to you, his body a hair away from yours, as he looked into your eyes. “Mmmm do you want it to be?” You reached out to take him by the waist but he backed up. “Ha! Not on today’s planning, darling.” He took the turkey pack from behind him and shoved it at you. You muttered, “Tease…”

After lunch, having finished cleaning up, Dean announced, “Now, time for baklavas!” “But, we just ate.” “Ah, ah, those things need to cool down before we eat them. So I make them now, and we eat them later.” You slouched on the counter. “And you?” “What about me?” “When do I get to eat you?”, you said playfully, looking up at him with a smirk. He raised an eyebrow. “Ah, wouldn’t you like to know…” “Oh my god, you really have something planned.” He nodded but said nothing. “Alright alright. The baklavas. What do I do?” you asked. Dean motioned ‘one minute’ and went to the study. He came back with one of the comfortable chairs. He put it dead centre in the kitchen. “You sit here, and close your eyes.” You sat in the chair but didn’t close your eyes. “I’m not sure I can trust you…” “Oh but you should. I’ll tell you to open them in about 30 seconds anyway.” “Alright.” You closed your eyes.

You heard him go to your bedroom and come back. “OK, open your eyes.” You opened your eyes. Oh. My. God. In front of you stood Dean, naked but for a small, simple, white apron tied low on his hips, knot in the front. You squinted. Dean, knowing full well what you were doing, said, “No, it’s not see-through. Sorry not sorry.” “Damn.” You made a motion as to get up. “No, no, no, you stay there. You sit, you enjoy the cooking show. From your chair.” “Fucking tease.”

Dean turned to get what he needed from the fridge. His bow legs were nice – funny how something viewed as a flaw is actually sexy to you – but his tight little tush was nicer. His back was freckled lightly, and the whole view gave you the occasion to marvel at his general shape. The way the small of his back curved in a little bit, how his torso widened, and then his broad shoulders giving the perfect waist-to-shoulders ratio. You wondered why it was so enticing, why you were wired that way. As you trailed your eyes, you noticed he’d just had a haircut – funny how you hadn’t noticed it sooner – and the nape of his neck was calling to you. You wanted to kiss him and run your hands in his hair, take a bite of those shoulders. You could almost feel his butt pressed against your hips, your face between his shoulder blades, breathing in his scent, your arms around him, you hands on his chest… ‘My gosh’, you thought, ‘this is going to be hard’. He seemed to be taking an awful lot of time in the fridge. “Babe, do you need help finding something?” “Nope. Are you enjoying the view?” “Mmm oh yes…” God you wanted to grab that ass.

Dean went to the island. He was facing you, but all you could really admire was from the waist up. Damn island. Dean disposed things around him on the counter. What exactly, you didn’t notice. You just looked at his arms moving, his hands delicately taking this and that, moving items where he needed them. He took the tablet and propped it so he could check out his recipe. The tablet was set way too bright and the light from the screen made the green of his eyes greener, and his lashes seemed fuller. He blinked as he scrolled the screen to an even brighter part. Your heart skipped a beat. So much green… He read his recipe, bent over a little. You loved the look on his face when he was concentrating on something. You loved seeing the gears running in his eyes, how he furrowed his brows, how his mouth pouted the slightest bit. He bit his lower lip, focused on the screen. Without knowing it, you were biting yours too, but for vastly different reasons. Good god that man was fine. The light coming from the tablet outlined his jaw, his perfect jaw, goddamn why is a jaw so attractive? All you wanted was to sink your teeth in it. You bit your lip harder. You gripped the chair arms.

Dean straightened up and measured pistachios and almonds. He put them on the cutting board and started chopping. You looked at every detail of his movements. You drank in how his abs contracted, how his pecs flexed and how his arms became more defined when he pushed down on the knife, clearly making a point of using more force than necessary. The fucker knew what he was doing. You noticed your heartbeat picking up. You were so focused on wanting to touch him you could almost feel his skin under your hands.

Dean checked if the nuts were in small enough pieces, moving them around gently. Nodding to himself, he put the nuts in a bowl with some spices, mixed them with his hand. He stopped, seemingly absorbed in the mixed nuts, but, without moving, he looked up at you from under his eyebrows. He brought his hand to his mouth and licked his fingers slowly. He cocked an eyebrow and smirked, seeing you lick your lips and catch your breath.

Going back to his task, Dean took out the phyllo dough. You watched him assemble the baklavas with nuts, dough, melted butter. He splattered a little butter on him but didn’t seem to notice. You did. You wanted to lick that butter off slowly and taste his skin, all of his skin. You shifted your position, feeling your heartbeat between your legs, trying to find a more comfortable position. There was none. Meanwhile, Dean was delicately manipulating phyllo dough sheets as he added them to the pan and buttered them generously. Finally, he took a knife and cut portions into the pan. Oh dear that tongue of his sticking out when he concentrates… You heard the sound of leather being scratched as your hands gripped the arms tighter, and your hips rolled forward, trying to put pressure where you needed it trying to ease the little spasms already building up.

Dean turned and put the pan in the oven. He turned back to the island, fidgeted with his cell phone, put it down, then looked at the egg timer, squinting. He cranked it a little and put it on the counter on the side. He drummed his fingers on the metal, looking at the timer. You wondered, “How much time does it need in the oven?” His eyes glanced sideways at you. “About an hour. But I need to make some syrup in the meantime. And it needs simmering.” “That’s the second timer?” “Kind of.” “Hmmm… what kind of ‘kind of’?” you said, as you licked your lips slowly, your legs squeezing together of their own accord. Dean stopped drumming his fingers and, holding your gaze, turned his head to you, smiling.

Keeping eye contact, he went around the island and walked to you. Your eyes were wide, your lips parted. He opened your knees so he could stand right at the edge of the chair. He bent over, putting his hands on your wrists, preventing you from touching him. He came in close, stopped right before his lips touched yours. He looked into your eyes and dove in.

His kiss was hungry and tasted like cinnamon. You tried to get your body closer to his, but he didn’t help at all, keeping his distance, resisting your legs wrapped around his, pulling. You whole body was calling to him and he kissed you his cinnamon kisses, and you hungrily bit his lips. He trailed kisses down your jaw to your neck, and back up again, devouring you. You whimpered.

He broke the kiss. “Now, babe, pace yourself. I’m not done in the kitchen, not at all. Do you think you can wait another half hour?” You had a hard time thinking straight. “Pace myself? Another half hour? …I don’t think I can.” He looked at your lips longingly. “Well you’ll have to.” He freed your wrists and backed up a few paces.

He stood there a moment, a smirk on his face. You wondered why he wasn’t going back to the island. “What? What now? – Oh!” It finally caught your eye, the bulge lifting the apron, and not just a little. You couldn’t help but point at it. “Can I take care of that?” “Nope.” “Good God, Dean! You’re going to torture yourself too?” He laughed. “Oh no. Don’t worry.” He passed a hand under the apron, grabbing himself. You looked at him in disbelief. “Cheat! You could at least show me!” He laughed. “Nope.”

As he started stroking, you heard a ding. Dean let go of himself. “Time to make the syrup!” “What, right now?” “Yep. I put the timer on 10 minutes to make sure the syrup has time to cool down a bit before the baklavas are done.” You pointed to his bulge. “You’re gonna work with that?” “No choice!”

Dean turned around – that ass! – and went to the stove. You tried to calm down, looking about the kitchen, but your eyes always came around to Dean, and his back. You thought about how long it had been since you’d massaged him. Him lying down on the bed, his undies pulled halfway down his ass. Sitting by him, your hands exploring every muscle to see where he needed it the most. Putting oil into your hands to warm it up. Oiling a shoulder, warming up his skin, his muscles. Getting to work on him, taking the soreness away, untying the knots. Hearing him moan in relief… Working on the other shoulder, softening the tightness. Giving his back a nice rubbing until he falls asleep. Trailing soft kisses along his spine as you tuck him in… Your hips jerked, your knees closed shut tight. Good god you were not helping yourself. You strained your neck to see if Dean was still keeping a, say, safe distance from the stove. He was. You thought, to hell with Dean and his little games.

“Sooooo… How’s the syrup coming?” Dean turned a knob and said, “It needs to simmer about 20 minutes.” He turned around, extending his hand towards the egg timer but stopped mid-air, eyes wide. You were sitting exactly the same as he left you – hands gripping at the chair’s arms, knees apart – except you were sitting on your clothes. Your breasts were full, your nipples hard, your sex glimmering with your wetness. “What’s wrong, Dean?” He still couldn’t move. “You were not supposed to take your clothes off.” He swallowed. “But I guess I forgot to tell you.” You cocked an eyebrow. “Oh well. Too bad.” You hoped he would make a move. The cool air only augmented your torment, making you painfully aware of the desire burning between your legs.

Dean slowly cranked the egg timer, almost forgetting to look at it to see how much time he put on it. He stood behind the island, his hands resting on it, looking at you eyes wide, lips parted. “Dean, come here”, you said softly, moving your hips a little, pulling his gaze to your movement. He blinked slowly. Your whole body twitched. “Dean, look at the state I’m in, look at the state you’re in. This is going to be the slickiest, most awesome quickie ever.”

He looked at you, then looked down to the apron. He seemed to get out of a trance. “Hey. I think I got some butter on me.” You chuckled. “Yeah you did.” He shot a sinful look at you. “Let’s have this licked off then.” You stopped chuckling.

He walked back to you, resuming his position from earlier, standing between your legs, holding your wrists. “Now, you can lick the butter off, but that’s it. No going for apron action. Alright?” You looked up from the bulge. “Fucking Winchester.” “Ah! After. Maybe.” He got his butter-splattered tummy closer within reach of your mouth, which meant his erection was against your chest. As you licked the butter, kissing him, you felt him rub against you slightly. Your hips jerked, your legs wrapped around his again, your arms were trying to get free. Still, you kept at your task, trying to rub against his erection as you were now down to the taste of his skin, only his skin. You could feel yourself getting wetter, and your legs tried to close to give you some kind of release from the cool air and some pressure to help building the lust. Alas, with Dean standing there, you could only try without success, leaving you higher and hungrier.

Again, he stepped away, freeing you. “Thanks. And now, I have to take care of this,” he said, looking down. “Oh no,” you said, “it’s MY birthday, and that’s MINE.” You got up, grabbed him by the apron and swung him into the chair. Dean had no time to react; you were on top of him, your legs up on the chair’s arms, grabbing Dean by the shoulders for balance. You got the apron out of the way, stroke his sex with yours, getting him even harder. You kissed him, rough, tasting his mouth again, taking the last of the cinnamon. Dean gave in and held you tight, scratching at your back. You propped yourself up to give him access to your breasts and he kissed them, sucking on your nipples. You felt his hand go under you, feel you, stroke you, get a finger into you. His face buried in your breasts, you heard a muffled “Fuck girl, you’re beyond ready!!” You whimpered, his fingers only teasing you. You felt his cock at your entrance. You lowered on it slowly, feeling him fill you completely, inch by inch. Your moans echoed in the bunker. He gripped you so tight you felt his hands into you. You got up and slowly got down on him again. Dean screamed “FUCK!!” and took the cadence over, guiding you as he held you. You came smashing down on him, he came up smashing into you, your grunts only muffled when you buried your face into one another. Soon you felt yourself grip at his cock in waves, your hands digging hard in his shoulders, your legs cramping around the chair, Dean screaming your name as he stopped moving, his whole body crushed into you.

Ding!


End file.
